From The Window Across The Street
by BlueHummingbird101
Summary: "She just walked down the street with nothing more than a small, black suitcase, her stilettos clacking against the cobbles of the road. Her expression was one of grit, somehow mingled with a half-smile and a commanding air. " A semi-AU, in which River's life is observed by a young girl sat on the window ledge across the street from her. Rated T, so I can be flexible later on.
1. Chapter 1

_**From The Window Across The Street**_

_A.N._

_I imagined this to be set post-Stormcage, but pre-Manhattan: a married River, who still has both parents intact – ah, Ponds, I do miss them!_

The house opposite me had only just gone up for sale when she moved in. It was an extremely ordinary house, previously owned by a couple that had moved away to have kids. I had been sitting on my bedroom window-ledge when I saw the 'FOR SALE' sign go up, as I had been when I saw her arrive. Thinking about it, I never even saw her, or anyone else for that matter, look at it beforehand. She just walked down the street with nothing more than a small, black suitcase, her stilettos clacking against the cobbles of the road. Her expression was one of grit, somehow mingled with a half-smile and a commanding air. She took down the 'FOR SALE' sign herself, before marching over to the door, taking a out a single key and unlocking it. Before entering, she frowned, paused, turned, and looked around at me. I smiled as she saw me watching and gave a shy wave, but she threw me a glowing smile, and waved back, prior to turning back into her house with a faint smile still etched upon her face; smile which now matched mine.

She had a huge, messy halo of unruly blonde curls and mischievous, almost childlike eyes softened by faint laughter lines. Her features were gentle but defined, mature yet playful, with a stubborn jaw that somehow conveyed both determination and strength.

She'd walked with such an air of confidence, it was almost as if she created a tangible bubble around herself, her heels beating against the ground. She wore a slimming dress of such a dark shade of blue it almost appeared black. It was made of such a light material, it seemed to swim around her frame, the sleeves fluttering at her elbows. It flowed down her figure, flirting just above her ankle.

From what she was wearing, she appeared extremely well off, and she stuck out dramatically from the standard brick houses that lined the street. However, she carried only the smallest suitcase, and had walked down the street, rather than travelling by car or taxi.

-x-

I didn't see her leave the house for the next week or so. I assume she must have left at some point, but I never saw her do so. She had soon become the talk of the town, and yet the only thing known for sure about her was her name. River Song. It fitted her well, I thought. It stood out, like her, but everyone seemed so much more curious as to her reason for coming here. Depending on who you asked, she was a criminal on the run for diamond theft, she was a millionaire seeking a getaway from her extravagant lifestyle or an undercover spy/detective/policewoman who had come to find the murderer that George had seen on the News that morning.

I live in a small village and gossip spreads like wildfire, essentially stemming from the local pub. I don't frequent it, but my sister gets home with the day's theories on River's reason for being here. I rarely leave home, to be honest. I go to school, obviously, but other than that I prefer to stay in my room, curled up in a ball, sat on the window ledge, listening to my iPod on shuffle. I could sit there for days, just watching the world go by.

My sister, Joey, is the complete opposite. She's much older than me, 24 next March, and she is the type who runs around the village with her mates, teasing the lads, climbing trees and generally having fun. She's always one to come home with an interesting story.

One of the few occasions I did leave home, I happened upon River in the local newsagent. This was about three weeks after I first saw her arrive, and she wore a deep crimson top, with small beads adorning the immodest neckline. Her jeans were tight fitting, and she walked in short, red, leather boots. She smiled at me as I entered, and I could tell she recognised me. I smiled back, but blushed and turned to find the magazine Joey had asked me to buy for her.

_A.N.  
This is my first ever fanfiction, so a review would be well loved – whatever you thought of the story! Thanks for reading _


	2. Chapter 2

_**From The Window Across The Street**_

_A.N._

_It's been a while, and I think you're due an update! So…here it is… Hope you like it!_

I've never been very interested in school - too many rules, I always thought. Most of the lessons seemed pointless, and it always seemed the sole aim was to sit and regurgitate the past year's work when exam time came around. Needless to say, I don't get the best grades. It's not because I'm stupid, but I just don't see why I should study when there's something far more interesting I could be doing. Joey liked school. She was probably one of the most popular girls in her year, when she was at school, and there's no secret as to why: she's lively and funny and bounces off strangers as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Every night, it seemed, she was invited to someone or other's party. But she always found time for me. She'd get home each night, and tell me all the gossip and girly dramas of that day.

I don't have nearly as many friends, but I've never been lonely. I liked to spend my time alone, sat on my own at a table in the canteen, or in a corner of a library with my nose in a book. Over the years, I've just slowly become invisible. Part of the furniture. A fly on the wall. But that was the best bit. I could sit for hours just listening to the conversations of those around me. You would never guess it, but I can give you a blow-by-blow account of the lives of most people at my school. The topics of the conversations would vary from 'Did you hear they're dating?' to 'I have got SO much studying to do!' However, the subjects chosen were nearly always quite tedious to listen to, so I just sit in a corner and read.

Today was different though. Today, I'd say 90 percent of the conversations were centered on River Song. Everyone seemed to have moved on from the subject of her actual arrival, and were now analysing every word that came out of her mouth. Apparently those who had spoken to her had been left both bemused and in awe of her tales. She told stories of the universe as no one had even considered it before. Most people seemed to think she was mad, but when she told of desperate tragedies and sheer, exhilarating joy, it was hard to believe they were anything but the truth. It was just so positively magical for it to be immediately accepted by those who lived in a tiny village on the edge of nothing.

As I walked home that night, I came to wonder how someone who had arrived less that a fortnight ago could have such a profound impact on the town as a whole. She did seem quite remarkable upon arrival, but I came to think the town must have been starved of gossip recently, as I have never seen such a widespread interest in a complete stranger. On my way home, I passed the village pub. 'The White Horse' is normally quiet busy around this time, but I could hear unusually raucous yells coming from inside. Curious, I pushed the door open and peered inside.

River Song was sat on the counter, legs swinging off the end, empty wine glass held aloft. She was surrounded by 15-or-so blokes, each clutching a large glass of beer, and appeared to be the centre of attention. Many of the men looked like they'd drunk a few too many, but River hardly seemed tipsy. Her wide eyes and frequent laughter might have convinced otherwise, but her movements seemed too articulated, too deliberate for her to be inebriated.

I realised I was still stood in the doorway after a good ten minutes or so, when someone behind me tapped my shoulder.

'Excuse me' he blinked, the ghost of a smile lingering on his features, apparently at my bemused expression. I jumped to one side. He smiled at me, this time giving off a warm, fatherly glow, and, as he stepped past me, I had time to take in the tweed jacket, bow tie and the flop of brown, childish fringe. He dressed like an oddball history teacher who was nearing retirement, but he couldn't have been much older than about 30.

'Doctor Song!' he called out, looking directly at River. I couldn't see his face, but the grin that now stretched from ear-to-ear was somehow visible from a 360-degree angle as he rubbed his hands together. River looked up, and all eyes in the room flicked between the pair. Her expression immediately altered to match his, and she hopped off the counter. 'It's 'Professor Song' now, sweetie.' she said, calmly. The whole pub had gone silent by the time she had kissed the corner of his mouth, and pushed past him. He just grinned, stood a little taller and straightened his bow tie, before turning to follow her out of the door.

George, the bartender, was the first to speak after they'd gone  
'Okay boys, show's over – who wants another round?' Within seconds, the pub had reverted back to its previous volume and I made for the door. I left just in time to see River and the strange man turn the corner together. He appeared to be talking animatedly about something, but I was too far away to hear what he was saying. I smiled quietly to myself. They made quite a pair.

_A.N.  
Reviews are always a plus – thanks for reading!_


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